Crack the Shutters
by BJArthur
Summary: I could sit for hours finding new ways to be awed each minute. BZ/GW. fluffier then i normally write. inspired by Snow Patrol.


so here's a bit of fluff that came to me this morning around 6-ish. being pregnant means i don't sleep like a regular person anymore, which really stinks 'cause i didn't have to wake up until 9. this is inspired by the Snow Patrol song titled the same, off the A Hundred Million Suns album. i love that album. oddly enough, my Blaise looks strikingly like Snow Patrol frontman, Gary Lightbody. i don't usually do fluff, so any comments you have are welcome. it's short, but the song is only 3mins. and 23secs. so i guess that's okay. it's a one-shot, which means there will be no chapters coming after this.

* * *

"Blaise, it's time to wake up."

I grunted in reply; I was too tired from studying all night and really just wanted to curl up around her again.

"Blaise, we're going to be late for breakfast. Come on."

Again, I moaned and buried myself deeper under the warm covers. My girlfriend sighed and I thought I heard her mumble a quick cooling spell. The comforter and sheets dip down and her small, cold hands rest on my back.

"Just wake me later," I mumble, but turn over anyway so I can look at her through bleary eyes. I see her smile, red hair a curling halo around her heart shaped face, and I recognize the collar of the shirt she's wearing as one of my school ones; the pale, almost white green colour stands out against her hair. Only one other person in the school has shirts like that, but his are the lightest shade of blue. Most likely, the one she's wearing is mine from last night.

Morning light is filtering in from the rectangular top windows, brightening the room and lighting her features. She's beautiful, my lovely and fierce lioness. With red hair and golden eyes, she is truly a vision. On mornings like this, the in between time that's morning but not quite 'get up' time, it seems like I could just watch her forever and always find some new way to become entranced by her. She's not like the girls in my house; those girls are vicious and cruel, though some do try for the 'greater cause'. The 'greater cause' they try to serve is the one that leads to more badness then good, though. They are misguided and misinformed and use others as they have been used. Most of my house is like that these days. I have removed myself from them, from their 'cause', and have wrapped myself in her. She is simply beyond words.

_'And mischievous as hell,'_ I think as her cold hands run from the sides of my neck to my chest, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

"Your hands are freezing," I groan, trying not to whine. Then I smirk, a wonderfully lecherous thought coming to me. I catch her hands in mine and bring them up to my lips, kissing them softly. "Why don't I warm them up for you?" She gives a low giggle and leans in, rubbing her soft lips over mine.

"You can hold them all the way to the dining hall, how about that?"

"Not good enough." I catch her around the waist and haul her into bed beside me, pressing her between the folds of the comforter. She laughs; I love the sound of her laugh. It's light and honest and carefree. There's nothing about her that's fake.

"One kiss," I say, not a demand but a request. "Just one and then I'll get up and we'll go to breakfast." Her golden eyes rolled.

"We can kiss on the way there." I raise an eyebrow. I know she doesn't mind kissing me; this is just a game we play.

"While we're holding hands and walking? I don't think so; we'll most likely run into something. One kiss, Ginevra, then we can go." She tries to glare and look resolute, but she's smiling underneath and I can tell she's already given in.

"Fine, but just one." I grin triumphantly.

"I'll have to make it a good one, then."

I lower my mouth to hers, moving slowly to savour her taste: a little bit of mint, a bit of cinnamon, and something uniquely Ginevra that makes me want her even more. I take my time, my tongue caressing hers rather than fighting for dominance. This isn't sexual; this is loving, worshiping almost. Our hands are entwined, her fingers threaded tightly through mine, resting on either side of her head. How someone, let alone a Gryffindor and a Weasley, could come to mean so much to me is baffling. Yet, having her, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I wouldn't change who she is or who I am or how we came to be; together, just as we are, is perfection. It must be, I'm convinced, for nothing else could ever be this amazing.

Slowly we came to a stop, and I pressed my face against hers in an effort to prolong the nearness.

"How did you become so wonderful?" I ask softly. "What did I do to deserve you?" Now I could feel her face break out into a full blown smile and I pulled back to look into her eyes, glowing with love; they were a reflection of my own heart back to me.

"You looked at me, Blaise," she said, her voice soft though her smile was so big. "You saw me as me, not just a Weasley or a Gryffindor. You have never expected me to be anything other then what I am, and I love you all the more for it."

"Funny," I pressed a kiss to her cheek the leaned down to her ear. "I could say the same about you."

* * *

i know, short as all get out. but it's good short. i can only take fluff in small doses. anything more and i start having to brush my teeth every few minutes. it's 873 words, which is just long enough where i'm not disgusted with myself for thinking of such cuteness. my hormones have been making me feel rather lovey lately, so i'm saying this was the baby's idea rather then mine. not even born yet and she's already showing creative tendencies. ... i think i'll be proud rather then disgusted.

anyway, let me know what you think.


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